


tell me you don't (it feels like you do)

by soyicedcoffee



Series: femme eddie/stone butch richie [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Butch/Femme, F/F, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Smut, Non-Binary Ben Hanscom, Slow Burn, Stone Butch Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24055102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyicedcoffee/pseuds/soyicedcoffee
Summary: Eddie meets Richie where she works at a café on campus. Richie is hopelessly gay, Eddie is hopelessly oblivious, and feelings ensue.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: femme eddie/stone butch richie [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798417
Comments: 28
Kudos: 215





	tell me you don't (it feels like you do)

**Author's Note:**

> here is the f/f IT campus/coffee shop AU that nobody (literally nobody) asked for but i am here to provide regardless.
> 
> notes:  
> 1\. there are a couple of brief discussions about weight and weight shaming in this story  
> 2\. bill appears in this for one paragraph, and stan is only mentioned  
> 3\. i have not read It, and this is a VERYYYYY loose interpretation. i basically just plucked out the characters i liked and proceeded however i wanted  
> 4\. richie is stone butch so the sex in this is not reciprocal in the typical way. just a warning in case that's not your thing.  
> 5\. if you're reading this then thank you! i hope you like it.  
> 6\. title is from vance joy's i'm with you but my fav song for this fic is cigarette daydreams by cage the elephant (so sweet with a mean streak nearly brought me to my knees??? BIG reddie vibes imo)

Eddie didn’t know what brought her back to the café on the west side of campus. First of all, it was way out of her way. Like, a fifteen-minute walk from her last class of the day out of her way. And there were plenty of perfectly serviceable cafes on her side of campus, anyway.

She’d only stumbled into this café the week previous because she had to attend office hours for her Renaissance Art History class, which she was on the verge of failing spectacularly, having scored the lowest grade of her university career on her midterm paper. She’d rushed out of her professor’s office after being told that she _clearly_ hadn’t understood the assignment, and that _it would behoove you, Ms. Kaspbrak, to pay closer attention to the rubric and essay guidelines in the future,_ clutching her heavily red-marked paper in her fist. That’s when she’d spotted a familiar mop of red curls, haloed by warm amber light, through the window of the small café on the ground floor of the Fine Arts Building.

“Eddie!” Bev exclaimed once she came into view, a broad smile lighting up her face. One of the best things about being friends with Bev, in Eddie’s opinion, was that even though they lived together and saw each other multiple times per day, she was always excited to see her. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

“I just had that meeting with Dr. Jenkov,” she sighed, collapsing dramatically into the chair across from Bev. She had way too many books piled up on the small round table in front of her, with her laptop perched precariously on the edge. Eddie’s hand twitched toward it, tempted to push the laptop further onto the table, but she quickly realized there was no way to do it without rearranging all of her work.

“Oh, right. How did it go?” She asked, taking a crumbly bite of a blueberry scone that was precariously balanced on her laptop that was precariously balanced on the edge of the table.

“He basically said I didn’t understand the assignment and that I’m an idiot.”

“He didn’t call you an idiot,” she said, turning back to her laptop and typing furiously for a moment. “Did he?” Bev looked back up at her, eyebrows arched as if to say, _I don’t really believe he said that, Eds, but if he did you know I’ll kick his fucking ass._

“Well, he heavily implied it, Bev. As if it’s my fault his stupid fucking instructions are basically written in code. And- and don’t even get me started on his online ‘resources’. The level of disorganization gives me a fucking migraine just to look at.”

“Eddie, babe, you’re shouting,” she said gently. “But yeah, that fucking sucks. I’ve heard he’s the worst. You know, Ben had him for 101 last year and he refused to give them an excused absence when they had a panic attack in class. They had to go through the faculty. Such a pain in the ass.” She shook her head disbelievingly, rolling her eyes.

“He’s such a prick,” Eddie seethed, now whisper yelling, leaning across the table. “He’s gonna bring down my GPA with his stupid fucking class and his massive fucking hard on for Michelangelo, and I’m never going to get into law school. I fucking hate fine art requirements.” She groaned, slumping and letting her head hit the table – or, not the table, but a well-worn copy of Judith Butler’s _Gender Trouble._

Bev reached across the table and rubbed her arm sympathetically. She took a heroically large bite of her scone, finishing it off in one fell swoop. “Do you want to stay and study for a bit? We can get a drink? I need a top up anyway,” she said, gesturing to her nearly empty mug of coffee (perched precariously, of course).

They went up to the counter at the back of the store and Bev ordered her coffee. Eddie approached the counter, distracted, pawing through her backpack for her wallet.

“I’ll just get a hot chocolate,” she said, unzipping the front pouch of her backpack. She felt herself getting anxious – _did I leave it somewhere? In class? In the apartment? Did I drop it on the pavement on my way here? Then it’s long gone. My credit cards, my school ID. I’ll have to buy a new bus pass, fuck. I should never have gotten rid of my fanny packs._ Her hand finally closed on the familiar soft leather of her wallet, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, yes, I’m doing quite well myself. Thank you for asking.” Eddie finally looked up, wallet in hand, at the barista behind the counter, who was affecting one of the most terrible British accents Eddie had ever heard in her life. She was tall – so tall that Eddie had to tilt her head up to look at her face- and gangly, with curly, raven black hair, and coke bottle glasses that made her eyes look huge. The nametag affixed to her apron read RICHIE in messy, bold capital letters.

“What?” Eddie asked, irritation seeping into her voice. She really wasn’t in the mood for whatever the fuck was supposed to be happening here.

“Oh,” said the woman, reverting to what must have been her normal voice. “I just asked you how you are, and you said, ‘I’m good, how are you?’ and then I said-“

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, you didn’t? My mistake.” She grinned, and Eddie got the distinct impression she was being made fun of.

“Can I please just get a hot chocolate?” Richie’s eyebrows rose a little at Eddie’s tone, but her giddy smile didn’t drop an inch.

“You sure can. Can I grab your name?”

“What? Why?” Eddie asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“To write on the cup,” she said slowly, like it was obvious and she suspected Eddie must be suffering from a brain injury.

“Oh. Um… Eddie, I guess.”

“You guess?” Richie asked, grabbing a paper cup and sharpie, poised to mark the cup. “Is that not your name?”

“No, it is.”

She quickly marked the cup and set it down. She pressed too hard on the marker, and the squeaking sound made Eddie cringe. “Have you never been to a coffee shop before?” she asked, smirking as she punched through Eddie’s order on the till.

“Of course I have,” she scoffed, feeling abruptly flustered, face flushing hot with irritation. She handed over a five-dollar bill, and when Richie handed Eddie her change, she noticed her fingernails were painted a chipped black. She pictured it flaking off into her hot chocolate, and the thought made her shudder. Richie set about making her drink, long limbs moving awkwardly in the small space behind the coffee machine. She moved inefficiently, as if she was unfamiliar with the space, brow frequently furrowed with confusion, and Eddie wondered if she was new.

“Here you go, Eddie,” Richie handed her her drink a minute later, setting it down on the counter with an air of quiet triumph. Eddie stared at it for a long second.

“I didn’t ask for caramel,” she said, eyeing the layer of sauce carefully swirled on top of her whipped cream.

Richie’s ridiculous smile finally dropped a little. “Do you not like caramel?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, I do. But… why?”

Richie winked – like actually, actually winked at her. “Just enjoy it, Eddie. Only the cutest girls get free toppings.”

Eddie sputtered for a second. She could feel the blush spreading over her face. Richie turned away to help the next customer, unphased.

“You know, you should really tie your hair up. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of something called _state food safety regulations-_ “ she called after her back, cursing her voice for sounding a little strangled and shrill. For a second she thought Richie was just going to ignore her. But then she turned back to Eddie, snapping a black hair elastic off her wrist and gathering her hair into a small bun. She quirked an eyebrow at Eddie, as if to say, _happy?_ Eddie rolled her eyes and turned away, back to Bev and homework and profs and a million things that annoyed her but not quite as much as this barista managed to in a three-minute interaction.

(Apparently her opinion on Richie was not universally shared, because when she sat back down with Bev and asked, “The barista is kind of an asshole, right?” Bev looked affronted.

“What? No, she’s seriously the nicest! She always gives free refills on my coffee. What did she do?” Eddie could only grumble vaguely in reply.)

* * *

So, Eddie didn’t really know what brought her back to the coffee shop a week later. It wasn’t the customer service, and it wasn’t cleanliness or food safety standards either, because clearly the employees had little regard for either federal or state regulations. The hot chocolate _was_ really good, though. So maybe that was it. And it was in the back of her mind that maybe Bev would be there again. She could just text her and ask where she was, but whatever. It was a chilly September night, and her evening poli sci seminar was sucking out her soul, and she felt like a hot chocolate, so she went. Judge her if you will.

As it turns out, Bev was not there. In fact, the café was practically empty, except for a couple of what Eddie assumed were professors talking quietly but intensely at a table in the corner. And, of course, the same barista as last week standing behind the bar, looking bored and texting under the counter in a manner that she probably considered stealthy. When Eddie approached the counter, she looked up, slipping her phone into her apron pocket, and her face immediately split into a wide grin. Eddie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the obnoxious black and white button up shirt she was wearing, in a pattern that somehow turned the simple monochromatic colour scheme into an eyesore.

“What are you wearing?” It was out of her mouth before she could censor herself.

Richie looked down, unphased by Eddie’s unusual opening line. “Oh, isn’t it awesome? The dress code here is black, white, and beige, but patterns are fair game. I seriously found this at Value Village for like, five dollars.”

“What a deal,” said Eddie, deadpan, and Richie threw her head back and laughed. Eddie unsuccessfully tried to fight off the smile that she could feel making its way onto her face.

“Well, I didn’t realize today was Molly Ringwald cosplay day. I would have dressed completely differently, had I known.”

Eddie felt her jaw drop as she looked down, surveying her pink crewneck sweater, light wash jeans, and white sneakers. “What? That’s not-“

“Seriously, the only thing this look is missing to complete the 80s prep look is like, leg warmers. Or some kind of nylon windbreaker, maybe?”

Eddie frowned. _Okay,_ maybe her look was a little 80s inspired. And maybe she had both those things in her closet at home. “Whatever,” she grumbled.

“Don’t worry, it’s an adorable look, dude,” said Richie. “Hot chocolate again?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, “you have a good memory.”

Richie snorted, “Well, it’s not every day we get someone storming into the café yelling about Dr. Jenkov’s totally unfair marking schemes.” She started making Eddie’s hot chocolate as she talked, getting the same look of earnest concentration as last time as she steamed milk and pumped syrup. “That’s not to say it never happened before you,” she looked up, eyes all big behind her glasses lenses, “because pretty much everyone knows Dr. Jerkoff is a total asshole.”

Eddie barked out a surprised laugh. “Dr. Jerkoff? I love that,” she exclaimed, cracking up.

Richie’s eyes widened and she shushed her urgently, gesturing to the two professors still huddled in the corner of the café who were now looking over, obviously unimpressed. Eddie clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggling, and Richie cracked a smile. She ducked her head as she poured the milk into Eddie’s cup. “You know,” she started, clearing her throat, “if you wanted some pointers or whatever on your papers, I could help you out. I took renaissance art with him last year.”

Eddie quirked an eyebrow. It’s not that Richie seemed dumb, necessarily, but based on first impressions she wasn’t who Eddie would have chosen as a study buddy. Maybe that was judgmental of her, whatever. It would seriously surprise her if the woman’s frenetic energy leant itself well to studying. “Oh, I see you looking skeptical. I did very well in that class, I’ll have you know. Jerkoff loved me.”

“Okay. How did you do?”

“I fuckin aced it, man,” Richie said, handing Eddie her hot chocolate. It was absolutely smothered with caramel this time, so much that it threatened to drip over the edge of the cup. Eddie licked along the edge, catching the falling caramel with her tongue. Richie cleared her throat again, looking away. “Well, I got a B+. Or it might have been a B. But that’s just because I missed class like, twelve times. I aced all the essays. Anyway, can essay help beggars really be essay help choosers?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall asking you for help.” Eddie knew she was being rude, especially when Richie seemed to just be a genuinely nice and helpful person, but she couldn’t help it for some reason. Some people just got her riled up way too easily, and sarcasm was her last line of defence. Luckily, Richie just laughed. After another moment of carefully projected consideration, Eddie relented. “Fine. That would be helpful, actually. I’ll buy you dinner or something, in return.”

“Free food? I’m in.”

“You were already in.”

“True enough,” Richie agreed cheerfully. “Are you free on, like, Saturday? I’m off here at 4.”

Eddie acted like she was considering it for a second, as if she had an exciting, action packed life that included frequent Saturday afternoon activities other than homework and watching movies with her roommates. “Yeah, that works for me. I’ll meet you here?”

“Awesome,” said Richie, and she somehow sounded like she genuinely thought that helping Eddie write an essay on classicism in the Italian Renaissance was going to be a blast. Her broad smile made something warm fizzle somewhere in Eddie’s chest. “I’m Richie, by the way.” She held out her hand to shake, still adorned with that chipped dark green nail polish and an assortment of silver rings, which Eddie was nearly certain were yet another food safety violation. Eddie did not take it.

“If only there were some way I could have determined that already,” said Eddie, and Richie just stared for a second before reaching up and touching her name tag wonderingly.

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled ruefully. “Well, are you going to introduce yourself?”

“I thought you had a good memory.”

“Why, thank you for noticing, Eds. I am known around town for my sharp intellect. Not to mention my ample bosom.” This was all said in a vague Southern drawl, which made Eddie roll her eyes.

“Wow. Brutal. Please don’t attempt that impression again in front of me. It’s literally, like, fucking excruciating to watch.”

“You wound me,” said Richie, slapping her hand to her chest dramatically. “But I can tell you don’t really mean that. Southern Belle is one of my best bits.”

The bell above the door rang, signalling the arrival of a new customer, and Eddie turned on her heel to leave.

“Okay, I’ll see you on Saturday!” Richie called after her as she walked away. “Don’t stand me up, Edward, you’ll break my heart.”

“It’s Eddie,” she called back over her shoulder.

* * *

On Saturday, when Eddie got to the café at 4:00 on the dot, Richie was waiting for her just outside, wearing baggy ripped jeans and a black and white striped shirt that made her look eerily mime-like.

“Hey!” said Richie cheerily, waving as Eddie approached. “I was beginning to think you were gonna leave me waiting out here like a chump,” she said, glancing at her wrist, which was notably devoid of anything resembling a watch.

Eddie looked at her wrist, which actually did have a watch on it (it was a delicate looking gold watch her aunt got her for her 18th birthday. She never took it off). “I am exactly on time, actually,” she shoved her wrist up toward Richie’s face, tapping the heart shaped watch face which clearly read 4:00 PM. “Anyway, I thought mimes were supposed to be silent,” she crossed her arms.  
  


Without missing a beat, Richie launched into a mime in a box routine, hands flattening out in front of her face, then above her head. “Well, you see,” she said, “when I first became a mime, zey say I need something more _originale_ , to add some spice to my act. So I think to myself, what is more _originale_ zan a mime… oo speaks? Very clever, non?” Richie’s French accent was actually kind of funny, and Eddie couldn’t keep herself from snickering.

“Sorry, I didn’t take French as my second language, so I don’t know what the shit you’re saying.”

“ _Hon hon hon_.” Richie ducked her head, leaning toward Eddie and stage whispering, “That’s French laughter, for the uneducated here.”

Eddie shoved Richie a little, so she wasn’t looming over her. “So, where are we doing this?”

“Well, I’d say we could go to my dorm, but my roommate is there with her boyfriend and made me promise I’d be out all afternoon. We could do the library?”

“Why don’t we just go to my apartment? It’s, like, a fifteen-minute walk away.”

“Your _apartment_?” Richie asked, a look of exaggerated shock crossing her face. “Sounds bougie, but okay.”

Eddie rolled her eyes. “Well, I have three roommates. It’s only a little more expensive than living in the dorms. Trust me, it’s not bougie. At all. And I have to live with a satanic cat.” Mike’s cat Pennywise (affectionately called Penny by Bev, Ben, and Mike) truly did hate Eddie, and she had once even launched an aerial attack on her by sitting on top of the fridge and waiting until she walked by to pounce. Eddie had a scar on her shoulder to prove it.

Richie gasped loud enough to make Eddie jump. “A _cat!?”_ she exclaimed. “You are so lucky. I’m so excited to meet it. Honestly, the only downside I can see to this arrangement is that you don’t have access to the gourmet fare at the dining hall.” They set off walking across campus. It was a beautiful fall afternoon, and the ground was covered in orange and brown leaves, which crunched pleasantly under Eddie’s sneakers.

“Oh, I obviously still sneak into the dining hall. How could I go without my indeterminate white mush? Or my mysterious yet enticing brown mush?” said Eddie, adjusting the straps of her backpack.

“I don’t know how you can talk about mystery mush without mentioning mysterious orange mush with unsettling green specks.”

“Oh, how could I have forgotten about mysterious orange mush with unsettling green specks? That’s my bad.”

Richie laughed, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

When Eddie unlocked the door to the apartment, Richie looked around in awe like Eddie just unlocked the gates to the Magic Kingdom. “Holy shit, dude, this is so awesome. You have a TV! Next time I’ll bring over my Switch and we can play Mario Kart.” She gestured excitedly at the second-hand flatscreen that Ben’s parents gave them when they moved out.

A comment about Eddie not remembering inviting Richie over again was on the tip of her tongue, but that actually sounded like fun. “I’ve never played Mario Kart,” she said, flopping down on their green corduroy couch with her backpack in her lap.

Richie turned to her, jaw hanging open. “You’ve _never_ played Mario Kart? That makes no good sense. Unless… are you secretly Amish?”

Eddie shrugged. “I was never allowed video games growing up. My mom is pretty strict.”

“That is positutely tragic, Edward. Say the word, and I will run – _run_ – back to my dorm and get the goods right now. You have been deprived for far too long.”

“I thought you were supposed to help me with my essay?”

The expression on Richie’s face became abruptly serious. “Right down to business, I respect that. I like a studious woman,” she said teasingly, and Eddie felt her cheeks heat up in a blush. Richie took off the backpack slung over her shoulder and removed a thick stack of crumpled papers, which she handed over to Eddie with a flourish.

Eddie flipped through them, page after page of red-marked papers, marking rubrics, and enthusiastic hand-written comments. Eddie gasped. “Is this-“

“Yup,” Richie cut her off, a broad, self-satisfied grin lighting up her features, “all my papers from last year, complete with grades and Jerkoff’s adoring comments for your perusal.”

“I can’t take these,” said Eddie, clutching the stack of papers tightly in her hands.

“What? Why not?”

“This is- this is like cheating.”

Richie snorted. “It’s not cheating. It’s using resources effectively. And it’s his own fault he doesn’t change the essay topics year to year.”

Eddie flipped through, and sure enough the essays were on the same three topics she had to write on this semester. And, as Richie promised, they were all A papers. She clutched the bundle to her chest. “Richie, thank you. This is literally going to save my fucking life.”

Richie shrugged. “Don’t mention it. I’m glad my hoarding tendencies could finally benefit someone.” She slumped into the overstuffed leather armchair in the corner of the living room – another hand me down, this one from Bev’s aunt – long legs thrown over the side.

They settled in and Eddie emailed Richie her first paper – the one that she failed catastrophically – and Richie read through it silently on her beaten up looking old macbook. When she was done, she gave Eddie about a million comments, which Eddie had to try hard not to get defensive about.

“It’s really not a bad paper, Eds,” Richie said, noticing the growing frown on Eddie’s face and the notch developing between her eyebrows. “I just know it’s not what Jenkov is looking for. This would be an A paper in a history class, easy. You’re just missing the _art_ part, a little.”

Eddie groaned, although the compliment did make her feel a little better. “Why are you so good at this?”

“Eh, practice, mostly. I’ve taken a lot of art history courses.”

“Is that your major?” asked Eddie, suddenly curious.

“Ew, no. I’m not really into dropping dead from boredom,” Richie said, making a face. “I’m in graphic design.”

“That’s totally not what I expected,” said Eddie.

“What? What did you expect?”

“Honestly, I was convinced you were doing your BFA in acting, since you’re so goddamn dramatic,” said Eddie, smirking.

Richie gasped with mock offense. “Me? Richie Tozier? Dramatic? Name one time I’ve been overdramatic, ever, Eddie. I’ll wait.”

“I’m honestly struggling to think of a time when you weren’t overdramatic. And I’ve only known you for a week,” said Eddie. She couldn’t hold back her giggles at the affronted look on Richie’s face. Right then, Mike’s cat Penny strolled into the room, and much to Eddie’s chagrin she jumped right up onto Richie’s lap, curling up contentedly.

“Oh my God!” Richie squealed, eyes going wide. “Is this the sweet baby girl?!” Penny stared at Eddie with her big yellow eyes, blinking slowly in a manner which Eddie correctly interpreted to mean _fuck you, Eddie._ Richie ran her fingers through the cat’s soft black fur.

“Please don’t let her cuteness fool you. I promise you she’s pure evil.”

Richie gasped. “Don’t listen to her, sweetheart. She’s just jealous of our love.” Richie scratched her forehead and she leaned into the touch. Eddie was sure that if she tried that she’d be down a finger in no time. “What about you? What are you studying?”

“My major is political science. I’m going into law,” she said with a proud tilt of her chin.

“Oh, wow. I’m so sorry. It was really insensitive of me to call art history boring,” said Richie earnestly.

“What?”

“I mean, when your major is like a hundred times more boring than that,” said Richie, eyes wide.

“Fuck off,” Eddie said defensively, crossing her arms. “I happen to find political science fascinating.”

Richie fixed her with a skeptical look.

“It’s interesting, okay? And besides, at least I’ll have a chance at getting a job someday,” said Eddie, and as soon as it left her mouth she paused, wondering if she was being too mean.

“Oh, low blow, dude,” said Richie, but she was laughing. “My freelance graphic design career is going to be very lucrative, just you wait. And I always have my illustrious barista career to fall back on.”

They got back down to work, and when Eddie looked up she realized they’d been working for an hour and a half straight. She suggested they order pizza, which Richie readily agreed to and then ate with the ravenous enthusiasm of a woman starved.

While they were eating, Bev burst through the front door, back from a jog, sweaty with music blaring through her headphones. When she looked up, she paused, pulling her ear buds out so they hung loosely in her hand.

“Richie?” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Richie waved from her spot on the chair. “I’m just helping Eddie here with her art history paper. Giving her some sage advice from the master,” she said, grinning.

“Oh, thank God,” said Bev. “I couldn’t stand Eds getting another mark below an A. It takes a great toll on this household.”

Eddie scowled and gave Bev the finger, which just made her chuckle. “Well, I’ll let you kids get back to it,” she said, heading for the shower. Eddie caught her shooting them one last curious look before she closed the door behind her.

When they were done reviewing Eddie’s first essay, she helped her plan out her next paper paragraph by paragraph, for which Eddie was secretly deliriously grateful.

By the time Richie left, it was kind of late, and the sun had long set.

“Do you want me to, like, walk you home? It’s really dark out,” said Eddie, looking nervously out the window at the rapidly dimming sky.

Richie grinned. “Aw, that’s so sweet, Eddie Spaghetti. But if you walk me home, then you’ll have to walk back all alone. And you’re so small and kidnappable. Not a good idea.”

“Actually, I’m basically average height,” Eddie protested. Richie snorted at this, which Eddie chose to take the high road and ignore. “And besides, you could be kidnapped just as easily as me. You clearly have zero muscles mass.”

“Nah, I could definitely take them,” Richie flexed her arm, which caused no discernible change in the size or shape of her bicep. Eddie rolled her eyes. “Thanks for having me over. And for the pizza. That’s the best meal I’ve had since the semester started.”

“That’s really sad to hear, considering it wasn’t even that good,” said Eddie. “But don’t thank me. You helped me so much. You have no idea,” Eddie looked down at the floor, embarrassed at the sincerity.

Richie shrugged. “No sweat, seriously.” She pulled on her jacket and boots. “I’ll text you when I get home safe, so you know the kidnappers didn’t get to me.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, feeling herself smiling, “cool.” Richie shifted a little, and she looked kind of nervous, for no reason Eddie could determine. She stood there for a beat, just looking at Eddie.

“Okay,” she finally said, “I’ll see you later, then.” She gave an awkward little wave, then she was out the door.

* * *

Eddie: [dumbhat.jpg]

Richie: omg

Richie: my toque

Richie: are u holding it hostage

Eddie: you left it here, dumbass. although it’s a really dumb hat. I should put it down the garburator. for your own good.

Richie: u think thatll stop me?

Richie: [toques.jpg]

Eddie: there are more? jfc you are beyond help.

Richie: that’s me collection mate.

Eddie: if they ever want to see their friend again you will have to bring over your video game machine as ransom. And teach me how to play.

Richie: video game machine

Richie: are u serious. too cute.

Eddie: shut up

Richie: ok how about Tuesday?

Eddie: okay

Richie: I’m home safe btw

* * *

Eddie had classes all day Monday, and the day crawled by at a snail’s pace. She frontloaded her schedule this year, so most of her classes this semester were fourth year seminars that dragged on in three-hour long blocks that genuinely made her want to pull her hair out from boredom. By the time she got home she was exhausted, and she fell into the big leather armchair, kicked off her shoes, and mindlessly watched a few episodes of Gilmore Girls with Ben, Bev, and Mike.

By the time Tuesday afternoon rolled around, Eddie was already exhausted, and she was weirdly looking forward to hanging out with Richie. All the way to the café, she could feel her heart jumping in her throat.

She got to the café a half hour early, and she headed straight for a table in the corner to work on some readings she was behind on (she didn’t want to think about just _how_ behind she was, but it was probably somewhere in the realm of 250 pages. It made her cringe to think about.) When Richie spotted her, Eddie waved, and Richie waved back, face split into a disarmingly wide grin.

  
Classes were just getting out, and the café was busier than it had been during Eddie’s previous visits. Richie seemed to be working all alone, but she was handling all the orders with a practiced ease, charming smile never leaving her face. Eddie couldn’t deny that she was impressed. She wondered why Richie had seemed so awkward behind the bar when she was making Eddie’s drink when she was obviously good at her job. She realized she was staring and shook her head to clear it, going back to her readings with a sigh.

She was interrupted minutes later by a deep laugh. She looked up at the source of the noise, a handsome blond guy leaning against the till talking to Richie. He leaned forward a bit with a charming smile plastered on his face. Eddie was sitting close enough that she couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

“So, do you come here often?” he said, and Eddie rolled her eyes. He was trying to be witty and suave and it wasn’t working. Like, at all.

Eddie couldn’t see Richie’s reaction, but she could hear her easy laugh. “No, this is actually my first time. I just strolled back here and they started letting me make drinks. That was years ago, and I haven’t left since.”

The guy laughed in a way that indicated he wasn’t really listening.

“So, are you gonna write your number on that cup for me, gorgeous?” he finally asked with a cocky smile. Eddie had to admire his boldness, she really did. Maybe Richie would too. She’d be surprised if this was the kind of guy Richie went for – clean cut, frat boy douchey – but who knew. Eddie was having trouble picturing Richie with a guy at all, honestly.

“Oh!” said Richie. She sounded genuinely surprised, and Eddie wanted to roll her eyes, because this guy’s flirting was about as subtle as a brick to the head. “Wow, that’s very flattering,” Richie said, reaching up and rubbing at the back of her neck awkwardly, “but I’m actually gay.”

To his credit, he took it in stride, laughing and accepting his coffee, sans number, with a wry grin. “Had to shoot my shot,” he teased, dropping a dollar in the tip jar, and Richie shot him finger guns as she walks out.

Soon after, the evening barista came in to take over for Richie, a cute, dark haired guy named Bill. Richie greeted him with an excited holler of, “Billy! My hero!” before running to the back, tugging her apron over her head as she went. When she came back out, jacket on and backpack slung over her shoulder, she made her way over to Eddie, stopping only to give Bill a loud kiss on the cheek. “I cleaned the sinks for you,” said Richie, “because I fuckin adore you. See you tomorrow!” Bill responded with a fond eye roll, wiping at his cheek with his sleeve. 

“Eddiekins, I’m finally free!” Richie exclaimed as she approached Eddie’s table. “Are you ready for an afternoon of fun?” She was holding a gigantic iced coffee in one hand, and a paper cup in the other which she set on the table in front of Eddie. She sat down on the edge of the chair across from Eddie, knee bouncing.

Eddie took a sip from the drink in front of her and couldn’t suppress a small, satisfied moan at the flavour of the rich chocolate. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she said. “You seem… caffeinated,” she noted, glancing pointedly at Richie’s bouncing leg.

Richie gave her coffee a demonstrative shake, ice cubes knocking against the sides of the cup. “Very observant.” A chaotic lock of curly hair fell over her eyes, and she pushed it back. “This iced coffee is the only thing standing between me and death’s door. I was up until, like, four finishing this fucking stupid midterm project. This is basically just espresso and sugar.” She took a sip, and she must take Eddie’s horrified expression for one of curiosity, because Richie shoved the cup toward Eddie, holding the straw up to her mouth. “Wanna try it?”

Eddie ducked her head, taking obedient sip through the straw, and Richie’s face went blank, a blush flooding her cheeks that Eddie was sure she wasn’t imagining. When the flavour caught up to her, she had no more time to analyze Richie’s expression. She gagged and pushed the cup away from her abruptly enough that a little coffee escaped the lid and sloshed onto Richie’s jeans. “What the actual fuck, Richard? That is disgusting.”

Richie, for her part, was in stitches laughing. “Holy shit, you should have seen the look on your face.” She wiped at her eyes. “It’s actually the exact face I made when I ate your mom’s pussy for the first time. You get used to it though, trust me.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Eddie shouted, standing up and shoving her book and laptop into her backpack. “You’re so fucking gross. Seriously.”

She stormed out, and Richie caught up to her easily (her legs were way longer, okay?) shit-eating grin never leaving her face. Eddie took a tube of strawberry flavoured chapstick out of her backpack and put it on, trying to get the bitter taste of espresso out of her mouth. Richie handed Eddie her drink, retrieved from the table, and Eddie snatched it from her hand, taking another sip. She wasn’t going to deny herself hot chocolate, even if Richie was an asshole.

“I’m sorry, Eddie Spaghetti. Can you ever forgive me?” asked Richie.

Eddie stopped walking, turning to face her. “Eddie Spaghetti? What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a nickname,” said Richie. Eddie couldn’t decide if the grin on her face was smug or proud. “Do you like it?”

Eddie shook her head and started walking again. “Not really. It doesn’t even make sense. I don’t like spaghetti.”

“Yeah, but it rhymes!” Richie whined. “And it’s adorable, just like you.”

Eddie grimaced. Something about Richie calling her adorable made her heart knock around in her chest uncomfortably.

“By the way, is it okay if we go to my dorm for a sec? I forgot to bring the switch with me this morning.” Without waiting for a reply, Richie took a beeline toward the dorms, and Eddie rushed to catch up. “Do you want me to stop? With the nickname. I’m not here to offend people with my genius. And I can always think of something else. I’m a fount of clever nicknames.”

Eddie thought about it for a second. What if the next nickname she came up with was way worse? And Eddie Spaghetti _was_ kind of…. Cute. Or something.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Eddie said. “But you have to let me come up with a nickname for you, then.”

“That’s A-OK with me,” Richie said. “I’d be honoured.”

“Any nickname I want,” said Eddie, crossing her arms and fixing a serious expression onto her face.

Richie threw up her hands in surrender. “Far be it from me to supress your creative mind, Eds.”

They walked in silence for a while Eddie considered her options. To be honest, she wasn’t really a creative person. She wracked her brain and found there were very few rhymes for Richie.

“Okay, I’ve got one,” Eddie finally said.

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“Trashmouth.”

Richie scoffed. “Trashmouth? I give you an adorable nickname and you give me this bullshit?”

Eddie shrugged. “You talk a lot of trash, okay? It’s a great nickname. Makes way more sense than _Eddie Spaghetti_ , anyway.”

“I’ll accept it, Eddie, but only from you. I’ll have you know, many people like this Trashmouth. And the things it can do.” Richie waggled her eyebrows.

Eddie made an exaggerated retching noise. “That’s the grossest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I don’t know, Carter seemed to be pretty into it,” said Richie with a sly smile.

“Carter?” asked Eddie blankly. “Oh, that guy at the coffee shop? He was like… so obnoxious.”

Richie laughed. “Yeah, he was pretty obnoxious.”

They got to Richie’s dorm and she pulled out her keys. “Do you always have to say that to guys to get them off your back?” asked Eddie as Richie struggled with the lock, which appeared to be ancient and rusted to shit.

“What do you mean?” asked Richie.

“I mean, that you’re gay.” Richie leaned all of her weight into the door and it finally slammed open.

When she looked back at Eddie, her eyebrows were lost somewhere in her hairline. She was silent for a long moment. “Eddie,” she said, “I _am_ gay.”

“What?”

“I mean, I thought it was obvious,” said Richie, shaking her head bewilderedly.

“How the fuck was that obvious?” asked Eddie. Richie entered the room and immediately went to the closet and started digging around.

“I dunno, Eds,” said Richie, chuckling. “Is that like… a problem for you?” she asked hesitantly. Eddie instantly felt horrible.

“What? Of course not,” she said. “I mean, my roommates are all LGBTQ or whatever. It’s totally chill. You know Bev,” she added.

“Woah, woah, woah,” said Richie. “Hold on just a minute, Eddie Spaghetti. You’re telling me that Bev is queer?”

“Um, yes?” Eddie dropped her backpack on the floor of the dorm and started looking around. It was a small room, and Richie shared it with someone who was much neater than her. Her side of the room wasn’t _dirty,_ but it didn’t seem to be that clean either, and her walls were covered with posters for movies Eddie had never seen and bands she had only heard of. On the wall above her bed were what looked like a series of pen drawings on white paper, and Eddie braved Richie’s mess to check them out.

“I fucking knew it!” exclaimed Richie, fist pumping. “This gaydar is 100% accurate, baby.” She started unzipping her backpack and carefully packing the console. “Well, almost 100%,” she mumbled to herself. Eddie was pretty sure Richie hadn’t meant for her to hear that. Did she think...?

“All right,” she said, “do we want Mario Kart?” she held up the brightly coloured plastic case. “Or… do you want to smash?” She waggled her eyebrows in a way Eddie was coming to associate with Richie being a dumbass.

Eddie opened her mouth and closed it again. She was speechless, which was not a state she often found herself in. Was Richie really asking her to…? She didn’t even want to imagine how tomato red her face had gone, but she could feel the heat.

Richie burst out laughing. “Oh my God,” she said between fits of laughter. “You should see the look on your face right now. Priceless!” She pulled another game out of her backpack. “Smash Bros., Eds.” Eddie’s face remained blank. “It’s like… a fighting game.”

“Oh,” said Eddie, laughing a little and pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Right, yeah. Um, whatever you want to play.” She focused on the art on the wall. She had to climb onto Richie’s bed to see them closely. There must have been twenty detailed drawings of churches, houses, cityscapes Eddie vaguely recognized from around town. “Did you do these?”

“What?” asked Richie, poking her head out of the closet. “Oh, those. Yeah, what do you think?”

“They’re amazing,” said Eddie earnestly. Richie laughed. “Seriously,” she insisted, “they’re so fucking cool. Why the hell aren’t you taking, like, illustration or something?”

Richie shrugged, standing up and dusting off her knees. “It’s more of a hobby. It would totally ruin it for me if I had to draw for school.” She said it casually, but Eddie could tell she was secretly pleased by her reaction. She could feel Richie watching her admire the drawings. “You can have one, if you want.”

“I couldn’t,” said Eddie faintly. She reached up and touched one of the drawings admiringly, one of a grand looking cathedral that she didn’t recognize. All the stained glass was penned in in careful detail.

Richie reached around her and unpinned it from the wall, handing it to Eddie unceremoniously. “Seriously, I have way too many of these anyway.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” she said. She opened up her backpack and slid the drawing into one of her school books to keep it safe.

When they got to Eddie’s apartment, Richie set up the TV and Eddie made them a snack in the kitchen.

“I think we’ll start with Mario Kart. That’ll be better for the Nintendo virgin. Are you ready for me to pop your video game cherry, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie called into the kitchen.

“Ugh, shut the fuck up, Trashmouth,” said Eddie, testing out the new nickname. It sounded right. She sat down on the couch and Richie handed her a tiny blue remote control. Eddie tucked her legs up under her and smoothed down her skirt, getting comfortable, while Richie sunk into the couch, lounging with her knees spread and one leg on the coffee table.

“How do you use these?” asked Eddie. Richie started explaining the different buttons. “No, I mean… you have way bigger hands than me.” If the joycon looked small in Eddie’s hands, it like a kid’s toy in Richie’s.

Richie shot her a look she couldn’t decipher, something ranging between confusion and bemusement, and Eddie scooched over and placed her hand on Richie’s upturned palm. Richie’s hand dwarfed her smaller one. “See?”

“Yeah,” said Richie gruffly. She cleared her throat. “I guess you just get used to it?”

Once Richie showed Eddie how to play, she had to admit it was pretty fun, even though she was disastrously bad at it and could barely keep her little go kart on the road. She eventually resorted to illegal maneuvers, kicking at Richie’s right arm at crucial moments to try to get her to mess up. She ended up lying back against the arm of their small couch with her feet tucked under Richie’s thigh. When she finally won a round she screamed with excitement, although she suspected Richie may have let her win.

* * *

Eddie: Bev. Richie is gay.

Beverly: who?

Eddie: …

Eddie: you know who Richie is.

Beverly: ooooohhhhhh u mean lesbian barista Richie

Eddie: what

Eddie: you already knew??????

Beverly: well ya. It’s kind of obvious.

Beverly: I was wondering when u were going to catch on lol.

Eddie: catch on ? to what ?

Beverly: the fact that shes been flirting with u?

Eddie: what

Eddie: no

Eddie: she’s not

Beverly: lol ok

Eddie: shes actually not Bev

Eddie: why do you even think that

Eddie: Bev

Eddie: Beverly???

* * *

“I am getting good vibes today, Eddie. Luck is in the air,” said Bev as she aggressively ate a plate of scrambled eggs. Eddie just nodded, still half asleep, shoveling cereal into her mouth. Beverly was, of course, referring to their bimonthly roommate thrift shop outing, which had been a tradition since they all moved in together in first year. “I have a good feeling, Bennie!” Bev repeated, shouting to Ben who was brushing their teeth in the bathroom. Whatever reply they made was muffled beyond anything Eddie could understand, but she suspected Bev understood perfectly.

Personally, Eddie thought it was crazy to get up before ten on a Sunday, but Bev insisted it was necessary, since it was a special occasion and all.

“Why don’t you ask Richie?” said Bev.

“Ask Richie what,” said Eddie blankly.

Bev laughed, “Ask her if she wants to come with us!” She took a big gulp from her huge mug of coffee. “You guys have been hanging out a bunch, right? We should all get to know each other,” she said cheerily, getting up to put her plate in the sink.

It was true, they had been hanging out a lot. Richie would come over after class or work and they’d study together, or more often they’d play video games and Richie would kick her ass. Eddie invited her over so much that Richie teasingly accused Eddie of using her for Mario Kart. _You found me out,_ said Eddie, _I only want you for your Switch._ It was easier than admitting to her that she was actually using Mario Kart as an excuse to see Richie.

“You should definitely invite her,” Mike agreed, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a piece of toast from the toaster. Seeing Mike in the apartment was like seeing a ghost – he was working on his honours history degree, and he spent almost all of his time in the library, leaving early in the morning and getting back after midnight.

Something about the idea of mixing Richie with the rest of her friends made Eddie feel a little bit antsy, but she pulled out her phone anyway. It would be nice to have Richie along, and she knew that Richie liked thrift shopping.

Eddie: do you want to go thrifting today

Richie replied in less than a minute.

Richie: with whom?

Eddie: my roommates

Richie: oh. will u be in attendance???

Eddie: obviously ?

And that’s how the five of them ended up piled into Bev’s old Toyota on their way to the big Goodwill in town.

Richie immediately got along with everyone. Mike, Richie, and Eddie were all squished into the tiny back seat with Richie in the middle, and since Mike had the aux (he always got the aux, since they all agreed that he had the objectively best taste in music of the four of them), they got into an involved discussion about Canadian indie music that Eddie didn’t even try to follow along with.

When they got there, they all split up, Ben and Bev to the sweaters and flannels ( _I think I’m going for a punk look this fall,_ Bev said in the car. _You know what I mean? Like autumn grunge_ ), Mike to the books and CDs (he always ended up with a pile of books so large that Eddie wondered how he stored them all in his tiny room), and Richie stuck close to Eddie. They browsed the locked case near the front of the store, where Eddie admired a gold heart shaped locket that she definitely couldn’t afford to splurge on, and Richie admired a Seinfeld DVD set that was apparently valuable enough to justify being under lock and key.

“Your friends are cool,” said Richie conversationally, sidling up beside Eddie at the jewelry counter.

Eddie couldn’t suppress a smile. Her friends _were_ cool.

“Thanks for inviting me,” said Richie. She sounded uncharacteristically sincere in a way that made Eddie squirm. They were standing close enough that their arms were pressed together. Eddie kept pretending to look at jewelry.

“Well, I thought it would be good to pick you up some decent clothes,” said Eddie, “so I can actually take you out in public.” She gestured to Richie’s current outfit – a bright blue Hawaiian shirt with a pineapple print layered over a faded The Cure t-shirt that Eddie suspected Richie had bought third or fourth hand at least.

Richie’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Aw, Eds. I know my fashion sense is growing on you. You don’t have to try so hard to hide it.” Eddie shook her head. She’d have to plead the fifth on that one.

They browsed through the clothes together. Richie pulled shirts out of the men’s section seemingly at random, then joined Eddie, who was carefully browsing the women’s section for anything that might both fit her and not be hideous and/or overwhelmingly beige.

A thought occurred to Eddie that made her laugh. “My mom would hate that I’m doing this,” she said as she fingered the soft material of a faded blue sweater that had clearly been worn many times over.

“Why?” asked Richie, looking up from her shopping curiously.

“She wouldn’t let me get within twenty feet of a thrift store,” said Eddie, “or anything she considered ‘dirty’. Bowling alleys, school dances… basically anything fun.”

Richie frowned, dark eyebrows drawing together. “She sounds controlling.”

Eddie shrugged, suddenly embarrassed at sharing so much. She didn’t usually like to talk about her mom. It was hard to explain what she was like to someone who hadn’t met her, and none of her college friends had. “It wasn’t that bad,” said Eddie. “Obviously lots of people have it worse.”

“No,” said Richie firmly. “That’s seriously fucked up, Eddie. I’m sorry she’s like that.”

Embarrassingly, Eddie found herself tearing up, and she looked away, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “Well, it’s been nice being here. I have a lot more freedom now. And I have Ben and Bev and Mike and… yeah,” she trailed off. “What about your parents? What are they like?”

“Uh, kind of the opposite, actually.” She pulled a dress off the rack and held it up for Eddie to see, raising her eyebrows in question. “This would look amazing on you.” It was a deep, rich yellow colour, something Eddie would never pick out for herself, but she nodded anyway and let Richie lay it over her arm. “But, yeah, they’re pretty uninvolved, I guess,” she said, casually flipping through another section of clothes. Eddie suspected that Richie was probably just as uncomfortable as she was discussing her family. “They probably won’t even bother coming up for my grad, to be honest.”

“They sound like cunts,” said Eddie matter of factly.

Richie burst out laughing. “Jesus, Eddie, the mouth on you,” she said.

“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s fucking stupid, Rich,” she said angrily. “They should be proud of you. You deserve for them to be proud of you. And anyway, you’re one to talk, Trashmouth.”

“It sounds different coming from someone so tiny and cute,” Richie said, grinning wide. She reached over and messed up Eddie’s hair with her hand.

Eddie slapped her hand away. “You’re a fucking dick,” she growled, trying to set her bangs back in place.

“Cute, cute, cute!” sang Richie. She reached out and pinched Eddie’s cheek. Eddie turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving Richie to run after her.

* * *

By the time they made it to the changing room, Richie had amassed a trove of questionable sartorial choices: tacky button ups, t-shirts with rude phrases, a pair of sneakers that looked like they had previously belonged to a clown. Each time she came out of the changing room with a look of glee on her face, Eddie groaned, which seemed to only increase Richie’s joy. Eddie would have thought she was doing it just to annoy her if she hadn’t ended up buying half of it.

“This…. This is amazing,” said Richie, emerging from the changing room wearing a button up cowboy shirt with a soaring eagle and American flags appliqued on the chest.

“Okay, that’s it,” Eddie finally snapped. “If you’re only going to try on stupid stuff, then it’s my turn.” She shoved Richie away from the door playfully and hung up the stuff she was trying on in the dressing room, shutting the door to Richie’s protests ( _I still have to try on the frog sweater! Eddie!)_

First, she tried on the dress that Richie picked out. When she came out of the dressing room to look in the full-length mirror, Richie grinned. “I knew it would look great.” Richie _had_ been right. The colour looked amazing on Eddie’s skin tone, making her look glowier than usual.

She went back into the change room to take it off. “Son of a bitch,” Eddie cursed.

“Are you okay?” Richie called from the other side of the door as Eddie struggled against the zipper under her arm, which was completely stuck. She tried again, but the angle was awkward, and she couldn’t get a good grasp on the tab.

“Umm, Richie? Can you come in here?” said Eddie, accepting defeat. She unlocked the door and Richie joined her in the small room. “The stupid fucking zipper is stuck.”

“Let’s see.” Richie leaned in under her arm to get a closer look at the zipper, and Eddie felt herself blushing at the awkward position and their proximity in the tiny change room. “The fabric’s just caught in the zipper,” Richie declared, fiddling with the zipper with her long fingers. Richie was biting her lip in concentration, and she smelled really good, like pine trees. Eddie wondered nervously whether she smelled okay too.

“I just have to…” Richie wrapped her left arm around Eddie’s back so she could get a better grip on the fabric behind the zipper and pull with her right hand. “Sorry,” she muttered. They were pressed very close together now, and Eddie could feel the movement of Richie’s chest when she breathed.

“Eddie, Richie, are you guys in here?” Richie froze at the sound of Mike’s voice and met Eddie’s eyes. Eddie couldn’t help feeling like they’d been caught, even though they hadn’t been doing anything. At that moment, something gave way and the zipper finally moved, sliding smoothly down to Eddie’s hip.

“Um, yeah,” said Eddie, trying to sound more casual than she felt. She pushed Richie out of the changing room first, and they were met with their three friends, and three pairs of raised eyebrows. “Richie was just helping me with a stuck zipper,” Eddie gestured to the zipper on the side of her dress.

“We, uh, we got it unzipped though,” said Richie breathlessly. She looked flustered, cheeks pink and hair messy, and Eddie doubted she looked much more put together with her dress half off.

“Right,” said Mike, nodding. “That’s good.” Eddie pointedly ignored the smirk on Bev’s face. “Well, we’re just about done,” he continued, holding up the predictably large pile of books in his hands.

“Okay, well I just have one more thing to try on, then I think we’re good too,” said Eddie quickly. She escaped back into the changing room before Richie could agree or disagree.

Her second item was a wool plaid skirt which would be an amazing find if it fit her. She came out of the changing room to examine it in the big mirror. “I love that,” said Ben encouragingly.

“Thanks Ben,” said Eddie, flashing them a smile. “Do you guys think it’s too short?” she asked, turning around to see how it fell in the back.

“I don’t know,” said Bev. “Richie, do you think it’s too short?” Ben gave Bev a disapproving look that just made her snicker.

Richie cleared her throat. “Uh, no. It looks really nice,” she said, eyes glued to Eddie in the mirror. Eddie had never heard Richie sound shy, and she wanted to smack Bev for teasing her.

Eddie bought the skirt.

* * *

If Eddie had any doubt as to whether Richie got along with her friends, it was erased when she walked into their apartment after class on Wednesday to Richie and Bev in the living room playing an intense game of Smash Bros. Ben and Bev shared the couch, Ben curled up in the corner with a book and Bev beside them, violently mashing the joy con with a manic look in her eye. Richie sat in the big chair, eyes narrowed in concentration as she managed to hit Bev’s character off the side of the stage.

The room had the familiar, musky smell of weed, and Bev and Richie’s eyes were glazed and red. Eddie knew that Bev had sworn off buying weed in order to save money. Richie must have brought it over, which meant that she now had Bev’s undying loyalty.

“Fuck!” shouted Bev.

“Hey,” said Ben with a smile, “how was class?” They appeared to be sober, or at least mostly sober.

Eddie shrugged. Her seminars were stressing her out beyond belief and thinking about the amount of homework she had to tackle before tomorrow was starting to give her a stress headache. She looked around the living room and surveyed her limited seating options. She could either squish in beside Ben and Bev or sit on the floor. Neither option was particularly appealing.

“Eds, you’re in the way of the TV,” said Bev, shooing her out of the way. Suddenly, Eddie felt an arm wrap around her waist and she was being pulled into the big leather chair onto Richie’s lap.

Eddie made a noise of surprised protest. “What the fuck?”

“Shush,” said Richie, eyes never leaving the screen. Eddie grumbled a little as she settled in, but she couldn’t pretend she’d prefer sitting on the cold laminate floor to sitting on Richie’s warm lap. Richie moved in the chair, shifting Eddie’s weight to get comfortable.

“Am I squishing you?” asked Eddie, trying to disguise the anxiety in her voice. Richie was a lot taller than her, but Eddie was heavier ( _overweight,_ she could hear her mom’s voice saying). When she made a move to stand up, though, Richie held her tighter around the waist.

“You’re not too heavy,” said Richie, with such certainty that Eddie immediately relaxed. “You’re good here.”

Eddie watched Bev and Richie play (they were pretty evenly matched, which led to game after game being played in order to determine the ultimate winner) and chatted with Ben, but mostly she just enjoyed how comfortable she was sitting with Richie. She almost managed to forget all of the school work she had piled up. Almost.

* * *

Eventually, Richie ducked out, citing an early class the following morning. Eddie almost asked her to stay for just a little longer (she just wasn’t ready to start on her mountain of homework, okay?). Once she was gone, Eddie retreated to her room to confront the grim task at hand. She was halfway through her second reading when she heard a knock on her door.

“What?” said Eddie. It wasn’t until Bev hesitantly opened the door that Eddie realized she may have sounded a bit testy. “Ugh, sorry Bev,” she sighed. “I’m just…”

“Stressed?” Bev suggested, and Eddie nodded grimly.

“Yeah. These seminars are kicking my fucking ass.”

Bev plopped down on Eddie’s bed. “Oh, I know what you mean,” she said. “My gender studies seminars are destroying my will to live. I had 200 pages of reading for one class last week. Should that even be, like, legal?”

Bev looked at her like she was expecting an answer. Eddie shook her head. “No, definitely not.”

They sat in silence for a second, Bev apparently contemplating the legality of reading assignments.

“So… what’s up?” asked Eddie.

“Oh, sorry, you probably have lots to do,” said Bev sheepishly. “I just wanted to check in with you,” she said, raising her eyebrows in a way that Eddie knew probably had some significant meaning she wasn’t catching on to.

“Oh. Well, I’m okay,” said Eddie.

Bev took a deep breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Okay,” said Eddie, slowly filling with dread.

“And I’m only asking because I love you and I want you to be happy.”

“Why don’t you just ask?” Eddie replied irritably.

“Do you like Richie?”

Eddie froze. She should have seen this coming, but she somehow hadn’t. She wanted to get mad and tell Bev to fuck off, because that would be easier, but the look on Bev’s face was so clearly one of love and sympathy that it was instead just making her want to cry. “I don’t…” she started and trailed off. “I’m not gay, Bev.”

Bev nodded sagely, like that’s exactly what she expected her to say. “I didn’t ask if you’re gay, Eds. I asked if you like Richie.”

Eddie swallowed and looked away, focusing hard on a crack on the wall above Bev’s head.

“You don’t have to be gay to like her, you know. You could be bi, or pan, or you could just be someone who likes Richie. Or you could be gay, and that’s okay too.” Bev paused, and when Eddie didn’t respond, she continued. “You know there’s nothing wrong with liking girls, right? I mean, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with me or Ben or Mike, do you?”

“Of course not,” said Eddie hastily. “Never, Bev.”

“Okay,” she said, and it struck Eddie how amazing Bev was, and her ability to be fierce and gentle and intensely loving all at once. “I know it’s hard, hon.” She reached out and took one of Eddie’s hands between both of hers, and her palms were warm and dry. “We love you. When you’re ready to talk, we’re all ready to listen.” She stood up, kissed Eddie on the forehead, and left the room.

Eddie dreamed that night. It started exactly like that afternoon, with Richie pulling Eddie into her lap, but ended so differently that Eddie woke up with a start, breathing hard, and so wet she could feel it between her thighs.

She sighed. It had been one of those dreams that felt _so_ real. She almost felt like she could still feel Richie’s hands, and mouth, and her whispering _you’re good here_ into Eddie’s ear. She covered her face with her hands. It was embarrassing to think about, even all alone in her room.

She lay in bed for a long time, unable to sleep, thinking about her dream and her conversation with Bev. _Was_ she not straight? She’d had a boyfriend in high school, but that had mostly been her rebelling – it had been nice to keep a secret from her mom, and it had been nice to feel desired by someone. It made her feel like she was normal, which had been a huge relief when her mother had always been trying to convince her that there was something wrong with her. But being with him had absolutely nothing on how she felt about Richie. It wasn’t even in the realm of the same feeling.

Even just thinking about Richie – with her dark, wild hair, her big hands, her goofy grin, the confident way she moved, even her stupid, disgusting jokes – it gave her a feeling she didn’t even know existed outside of books and TV. She turned over and looked at her bulletin board where she’d pinned up the drawing Richie gave her. She stared at it like maybe the answers to her questions were hidden in the precise ink lines on the page.

She thought fleetingly about what her mother would think about this – about her liking a girl. She knew she wouldn’t approve. In fact, if this had happened in high school and she’d found out, Eddie had no doubt she would have kicked her out or put her in therapy. But she found the threat of her mother’s reaction didn’t carry the emotional weight she expected. Not anymore.

* * *

The next day after class, Eddie peered into the half open door to Bev’s room to see Bev and Ben sitting on the bed. Bev was carefully painting Ben’s nails a soft pink colour. Mike was sitting at Bev’s work desk, hunched over a book that looked thicker than anything Eddie had ever even attempted to read. Eddie knocked softly on the doorframe. Ben looked up and smiled and her.

“Come on in, honey,” said Bev, patting the spot across from them on the bed. Eddie crawled onto the bed and sat cross-legged, watching Bev put the finishing touches on Ben’s nails.

“What do you think?” asked Ben, holding out their left hand for Eddie’s inspection.

“Nice,” said Eddie. “That’s a good colour on you.”

There was a stretch of silence while Bev replaced the cap on the nail polish and blew lightly on the nails of Ben’s right hand. “Okay. Be careful with those, Bennie,” said Bev, and then she turned her gaze on Eddie, her eyebrows raised expectantly. Eddie broke in two seconds flat.

“I like Richie!” she blurted. “I really, really like Richie. I had a… a dream about her, and I’ve never felt this way before, and I don’t know what to do,” she rambled. Bev grinned, Ben smiled softly, and Mike spun around in Bev’s desk chair. None of them looked surprised.

She must have looked distraught, because Bev patted the bed between her and Ben. Eddie scooched up so that she was between them and leaned her head on Bev’s shoulder.

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” said Ben. Mike and Bev both nodded in agreement.

Eddie sighed. “I want to, but I’m… ugh, I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?” inquired Bev gently.

“What if she doesn’t like me back? Or what if she already knows that I like her and she’s just trying to save my feelings by staying friends with me? Or what if she _does_ like me back? I’ve never been with a girl, I’d have no idea what to do,” said Eddie mournfully.

“Well, first of all,” said Bev, “I guarantee she doesn’t already know how you feel. Richie is smart but she’s also, like, really dumb. Last week she asked me what kind of animal Kirby was supposed to be.” Eddie snorted.

Mike cleared his throat, and everyone else quieted down instantly. “Eddie, when I first realized I liked guys, I was scared shitless.” He laughed and shook his head at the memory. “I mean, genuinely. When I finally got the courage to ask out the guy I liked, I actually ended up cancelling our date last minute because I was so nervous. I mean, I had no experience with guys! I hardly had experience with girls, either. But when I finally got the nerve to go on that date,” he paused and looked around the room, like he was looking for the right words, “it was easy. I’m not saying that everything went perfect and it was never awkward or uncomfortable. But when you want something and you’re with someone you feel safe with and know you can trust… you have nothing to be scared of.” He got the soft, faraway look he always got when talking about his boyfriend, Stan, who was going to school back in California.

Eddie felt a little bit of the weight lift from her chest. “Thank you guys,” she said. “I think I’ll tell her. I just need some time.”

Ben put their arm around her shoulder and stroked her arm comfortingly. “Take your time,” they said.

“I mean, don’t take too long,” said Bev. Ben must have shot her a disapproving look over Eddie’s head, because she started laughing. “I’m just saying, you never know what’s going to happen. She’s fucking hot, someone could snatch her up.”

Eddie looked up at Ben, who had a surprisingly placid look on their face for someone whose girlfriend had just called someone else hot, and then looked back at Bev.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” said Bev. “I’m not closing in on your woman, Eds. I’ve got Ben. And I’m not into tops.” Both Ben and Mike burst out laughing, but Eddie could only muster a sarcastic _ha, ha._

* * *

Eddie got an A- in her art history class. As soon as she got her mark for her final paper back, she called Richie while she walked across campus to her next class. It was a crisp November morning, but it was pleasantly sunny, and Eddie tilted up her face to try to warm up her cold nose.

“Hullo?”

“Hi Rich!” Eddie chirped.

“You sound uncharacteristically chipper,” Richie observed.

“Guess why?”

“Hmm…” Richie pondered. “Have you finally discovered our college’s vast supply of recreational drugs?”

Eddie rolled her eyes. “No.”

There was a long, crackly pause on the other end of the line. “Did you get your art history mark back?” Richie asked, voice rising in tentative excitement.

Eddie smiled into her phone. “A-,” she said. Richie whooped so loudly that Eddie had to hold the phone away from her ear.

“Eddie got an A- in that class,” Richie said to someone in the background, voice tinny and distant, and Eddie heard a muffled voice on the other end of the line. “Bill says congratulations.”

“Thanks Bill,” said Eddie. “Are you at work?”

“Yeah,” Richie said, “I have to go. But we should go for dinner to celebrate. Tonight.”

“Okay,” Eddie readily agreed, catching herself off guard. She wasn’t normally the celebratory type, but she was so happy with her grade, and she wanted to see Richie.

There was a short pause on the line. Eddie suspected that Richie had been ready to try to convince her. “Okay,” said Richie. “I’ll come get you at your dorm at like, eight, okay?”

She sounded giddy, like she was smiling. “Wait. It sounds like you’re planning something. Are you planning something?”

“Okay, I have to go, see you at eight Eddie!” came Richie’s voice, sounding progressively farther away from the receiver. Her phone beeped she looked down at the _call ended_ message flashing on her screen.

Eddie smiled her way through the rest of her classes, so much so that she noticed a couple of her classmates gave her funny looks out of the corner of their eyes. To be fair, she doubted any of them had seen her genuinely smile before.

* * *

When she got home that afternoon, she rifled through her closet, looking for something to wear. She was pretty sure that Richie had something planned, but that was no help on its own. Would they go somewhere fancy? Knowing Richie, that seemed unlikely. Would it be outdoors? Knowing Richie, that was definitely possible. She wondered if she was making way too big a deal about this.

By the time Bev knocked on her door a half hour later, there were clothes spread out all over her bed and her desk chair. Bev whistled. “What happened here?” she asked, surveying the damage.

Eddie sat down on the bed. “Well, I got an A- in art history.”

Bev gasped and clapped her hands together. “Eddie! That’s amazing!”

Eddie smiled. “Thanks. I’m so relieved.”

“So, does that somehow explain…. this?” Bev spread her hands, indicating the disaster that was Eddie’s room.

“Well…” Eddie hesitated. It was kind of embarrassing that she was freaking out so much. “Richie and I are going for dinner to celebrate tonight. And I just-” she gestured helplessly to the state of her room, “I just really don’t know what to wear.”

Bev smiled knowingly and started sifting through the outfits Eddie had laid out on her bed.

“Do you think I’m being dumb?” asked Eddie, falling back so she was lying down, staring up at the ceiling.

“Of course not,” said Bev. “I mean, I don’t think you need to worry so much about what to wear. I’m pretty sure Richie wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off you even if you were wearing a potato sack.”

Eddie scoffed.

“I’m serious, honey. I wish you could see how she looks at you when you’re not paying attention.” Bev dropped some clothes onto Eddie’s lap; the plaid skirt she had bought at the thrift store and a fuzzy cream-coloured sweater. “She won’t be able to resist,” said Bev with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Oh my God, Bev, shut up,” Eddie groaned, shoving her. “That’s so not what’s happening here.”

“You can thank me later,” said Bev on her way out the door.

* * *

Richie showed up to get her at eight on the dot. She was wearing a soft looking grey turtleneck and black jeans that actually fit her, and Eddie’s stomach flipped over at the idea that Richie had dressed up for her the way she had for Richie. The only thing ruining the look was the fact that she had her backpack hanging off one shoulder. It looked suspiciously overstuffed.

“Wow,” said Richie. “You look very nice.”

“So do you,” said Eddie. It was an understatement. She pulled on her white sneakers. “What’s in the backpack?”

“That’s top secret.” Richie winked. “But all will be revealed in good time.”

Eddie narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing this is a secret and not a surprise,” said Richie, grinning wide.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” said Eddie.

They walked through the winter-dark streets to a diner close to campus that Eddie had seen but hadn’t ever been to. Inside, it was decked out in vintage vinyl seating and neon lights, giving it a 50s vibe. It was exactly the kind of place she could imagine Richie liking – quirky and comfortable, the walls as busy as the walls in Richie’s dorm.

“This is really cool,” said Eddie, looking around at the old diner memorabilia on the walls.

“You like it?” asked Richie, and when Eddie nodded she smiled, clearly pleased.

They were seated in a booth at the front of the diner, by the big windows that lined the storefront. It had started drizzling, and the droplets running down the window caught the colourful neon light from inside the restaurant. While Richie examined her menu intently, Eddie looked at her. The neon light reflected off Richie, too, the blue and purple and red light filtering through her dark curls and illuminating her face – her prominent nose, her strong jaw line, her dark eyes.

“What are you gonna get?” said Richie, snapping Eddie from her thoughts. She shook her head a little and looked down at her menu for the first time.

“Umm… an omelette, maybe?”

“Breakfast for dinner,” said Richie with a respectful nod. “This is a genius idea, Eddie.”

When the waiter came to take their orders, Eddie ordered an omelette and Richie followed suit and ordered French toast.

They chatted as they ate. Richie listened intently as Eddie complained at length about her final econ group project, and how she was the only one really working on it, and it was due in literally, like, six days. “But I’d honestly rather do it all myself than let those idiots fuck up my grade.” Richie laughed. “I know I sound like a control freak, but seriously. You should see how some of these people write. And this girl in my class seriously suggested we do the project on ‘the societal benefits of austerity’. She really said that.”

“You? A control freak?” Richie pretended disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like the Eddie I know at all.”

Richie told Eddie about one of her final design projects, a magazine layout that she’d put about twenty hours of work into, and it was only halfway done. It was a magazine redesign, and Richie had predictably chosen to revamp Cat Fancy. “Can I see?” asked Eddie.

“You really want to?” asked Richie, sounding surprised. It occurred to Eddie that Richie might not be used to people taking an interest in her work, if her parents weren’t even going to come to her grad. Richie slid into the booth beside her and showed her some of the pages on the small screen of her phone. She’d cleaned up the layout and cover and given it a fun, bold, cartoony look with lots of primary colours and bold black lines, and a more artistically shot cover photo.

“This is fucking cool, Rich,” said Eddie. “It’s like Keith Haring meets Cat Fancy.”

“That’s exactly what I was going for,” said Richie, face lighting up with a brilliant smile.

When the bill came, the waiter handed the bill to Richie, but Eddie grabbed it from her hand.

“No! We’re here to celebrate your A!” Richie protested.

Eddie rolled her eyes. “I think we both know that me paying for this doesn’t even begin to repay you for the amount you helped me,” she said, pulling the cash out of her wallet. “I don’t think I could have even pulled off a C in that class if it wasn’t for you.”

“You don’t have to repay me for anything,” Richie insisted, but she let Eddie pay.

* * *

They left the café and started walking back toward campus.

“Are you ready for the next event?” asked Richie, glancing at her.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Eddie agreed. “Would you tell me where we’re going?” She couldn’t resist asking.

“No,” said Richie. She was hyper, walking fast, and Eddie practically had to jog to catch up with her. “But I promise it’s good.”

They made their way back across campus. The rain had stopped and the sky had cleared, but the pavement was wet, reflecting the glimmering lights from the occasional street lamp or building. They walked close together, and every few steps their fingers brushed.

They passed Richie’s dorm, all the arts and humanities buildings, and ended up at the back of campus where the science and math classes were held. Eddie couldn’t imagine where they were headed, but she kept her mouth shut, knowing she wouldn’t get anything out of Richie.

Finally, they got to a large brick building on the far end of campus. Eddie had never been there before, and only knew it was the Natural Sciences building from the sign that stood on the grass outside. Richie climbed the steps up to the door, but Eddie stayed on the grass, arms crossed over her chest. She looked at her watch and saw it was nearing ten o’clock. She expected the door to be locked, but when Richie pulled on it, it swung open easily. She looked back at Eddie over her shoulder.

“Are you coming?” she asked. Eddie jogged up the stairs, looking around anxiously as they slipped inside the building.

Inside, it was dark and quiet. Eddie thought it looked more like a library than a science building, all dark wood and brass. There was a big reception desk in the centre of the room, flanked by a staircase on each side. “There is no way we’re allowed to be here, Richie,” Eddie hissed, keeping her voice as quiet as humanly possible.

“Don’t worry. I have permission,” said Richie, her voice just a little quieter than normal. She started making her way to the staircase on the right, but Eddie stood stock still. When she realized Eddie wasn’t following, she turned around and put her hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “Eddie, I promise I wouldn’t do anything to get you in trouble,” she said, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “Trust me, okay?”

“Fine,” Eddie relented. “But if we get caught, I’m telling them you kidnapped me.”

Richie grinned, and the moonlight filtering through the window made her teeth and skin glow blue. She led Eddie up the stairs, and they passed door after door. When they hit the fifth floor, the staircase ended, and the last door was a big metal exit door. Richie pushed on it and it didn’t budge. She frowned, and Eddie felt a keen sense of relief, mingled with a surprisingly strong sense of disappointment.

“I guess it’s locked,” said Eddie, and she began to turn on her heel. Before her foot hit the top step, she heard Richie try the door again, throwing her back into it this time, and it opened with a whoosh of air. The cool outside air and beams of moonlight rushed in, illuminating the dark stairway.

“After you,” said Richie, holding the door for her, and Eddie stepped out onto the roof and into the chilly night air. She wrapped her jacket around herself more tightly. Richie stepped out behind her, letting the door fall shut behind them.

“Wow,” said Eddie. They had stepped out into a rooftop garden. It was lined with rows of potted plants, trees growing in huge urns, and wooden boxes that Eddie thought probably held vegetable gardens. In the centre of the roof stood a large greenhouse, all aged wood and shiny glass. “What’s this?”

“The botany and agriculture students share it,” said Richie. She dug around in her front pocket and pulled out a key ring with a collection of worn looking brass keys.

“How do you know about it?” asked Eddie. Richie flipped through the keys and chose one, sliding it into the padlock on the greenhouse door. “And how did you get a _key?_ ”

“My roommate is in botany.” The lock popped, and Richie opened the door.

“She just trusted you with the key? Couldn’t she get in trouble for that?”

“Well, I may have agreed to help her with a couple of English essays.”

Inside the greenhouse it was warm, almost muggy, and Eddie slipped her jacket off. It felt bigger on the inside than she expected. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that there were plants everywhere, giving the space the dark, closed in feeling of a tropical cave. A huge fern wept in the corner, troughs of bright flowers lined the walls, and an elegant looking tree sprouted large lemons, ripe and drooping on the branch. Eddie felt her anxiety dissipate. The space was so closed off that it would be impossible to tell they were there from outside.

“This place is so cool. I didn’t even know it existed,” said Eddie wonderingly.

She went over to the fern in the corner and examined its delicate, ancient looking leaves that looked like they belonged in Jurassic Park, not on their college campus. Behind her, she heard a loud noise. When she turned around, she saw that Richie had discarded her jacket and her backpack in the corner and was now pushing the large wooden work table that had occupied the centre of the room to the side.

“What are you doing?” asked Eddie.

Richie brushed her hands off on her thighs. “Making space,” she said. She grabbed her backpack and zipped it open, pulling out a huge woven blanket that she spread on the floor. Richie lay down on one side of the blanket and then patted the space beside her, looking back at Eddie in invitation. Eddie joined her, sitting down on the blanket. The wood floor of the greenhouse was old, and creaked whenever Eddie shifted, but it was relatively soft and comfortable, even under the blanket.

“What are we doing?” asked Eddie, voice hushed.

“Lie down,” said Richie, and Eddie smoothed out her skirt and lied back beside Richie.

“ _Oh_ ,” she said. Through the glass roof of the greenhouse, she could see all the stars glimmering in the sky, and the bright crescent of the moon above them. “ _Wow._ ”

Richie hummed in agreement. They lied there in silence for a long time, both speechless. “I’m so relieved the rain cleared up,” Richie said with a chuckle. “It would have been embarrassing if we hadn’t been able to see anything.”

They lied in silence for a long time, enjoying the stars and the warmth of the greenhouse. It was quiet, and Eddie was lulled by the slow, steady sound of Richie breathing.

“Do you see the big dipper?” asked Richie.

“What? Where?”

Richie pointed vaguely, and Eddie squinted, trying to see where Richie was pointing. She heard a snicker beside her and when she turned her head to look at Richie, she was smirking.

“You’re bullshitting,” said Eddie. There was a pause.

“Yeah,” admitted Richie, turning her head and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “I am.”

Eddie reached over and smacked Richie on the arm, laughing. “I knew you didn’t know shit about constellations.”

Their laughter trailed off, but Richie kept looking at her, expression indecipherable.

“What?” asked Eddie, shifting nervously.

“You get crow’s feet when you laugh,” said Richie. She reached out and touched the outer corner of Eddie’s eye. Eddie moved to turn away, self-conscious, but Richie caught her shoulder. “No,” she said, recognizing Eddie’s discomfort. “It’s cute.”

“Oh,” said Eddie quietly. She felt her face heat up, but she had nowhere to hide. Even in the dark, she could see that Richie was blushing too.

“Eddie,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Eddie, voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I…” she heard Richie swallow. Behind her glasses, her eyes flicked from side to side, like she was studying Eddie’s face intently. “Can I do something?”

Eddie’s voice was stuck in her throat. She nodded.

“Okay,” said Richie. She shifted forward a little, so their faces were inches apart. There was a pause where everything seemed suspended – it could have been a second or a minute, as far as Eddie was concerned – and Richie seemed to be waiting for Eddie to back out. Then, Richie leaned forward and kissed her.

Eddie had been kissed before, but it hadn’t been anything like this. What they were doing was completely new. Richie’s mouth was soft and insistent, and even though Eddie had, on some level, been expecting Richie to kiss her, it still took her a second to catch up and kiss back. When Richie pulled back, Eddie gulped in a breath. “Is this okay?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, Rich,” Eddie said breathlessly. “Just, let me…” She carefully pulled Richie’s glasses from her face, placing them somewhere behind her. This time, it was Eddie who leaned forward. She moved her hand to Richie’s jaw and kissed her, harder this time, taking Richie’s lower lip between her teeth and biting softly. She was rewarded with a quiet groan from Richie, and she was surprised by how much it turned her on.

Richie slid her hand under Eddie’s sweater, her palm cool on Eddie’s rib cage. “Oh,” said Eddie, a little noise of surprise and pleasure that hadn’t been entirely voluntary.

“Is that okay?” asked Richie, pulling back so their noses were just brushing.

“Mm-hmm,” said Eddie, as Richie’s fingers brushed the bottom of her bra. “Really okay.” She felt Richie’s smile against her mouth.

As they kissed, Eddie shifted closer to Richie, almost unconsciously, until they ended up tangled together, Richie’s thigh slid between her legs in a way that made her feel like she was losing her mind.

Eddie had never understood what her friends meant when they said they wanted to have sex to be closer to their boyfriends. She’d always rolled her eyes and privately thought they were just horny but didn’t want to admit it. With Richie, though, she finally understood what they meant. They were close, so close that Eddie felt like she could feel Richie’s heart beating against her chest, but Eddie wanted, needed to be even closer.

“Richie, Richie,” she said, and she was taken aback by how breathy and desperate she sounded, “I want more.”

“Are you sure?” asked Richie. Eddie wanted to roll her eyes, but there was something about Richie checking in on her like that that was almost unbearably sweet.

“Yeah,” said Eddie. “I mean, if you want to.”

Richie chuckled, like she couldn’t believe that Eddie was asking. “Yeah, I really, really do, Eds,” she said. “Can I take off your sweater?”

Eddie nodded and sat up so that Richie could pull her sweater over her head. Eddie was wearing a white lace bralette that she was glad she wore, because upon seeing it, Richie took a sharp breath and ran her fingers over the lace appreciatively before unclipping it and sliding it off her shoulders. “Take yours off, too,” said Eddie, and Richie complied, pulling her sweater and her sports bra over her head, revealing her flat stomach, dotted with moles.

Eddie suddenly felt self-conscious. Richie was flat and taut everywhere Eddie wasn’t. She had the urge to cover up her stomach and arms. Before she could, Richie leaned forward and kissed her again. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, Eddie,” she said. She sat back and just looked at her for a moment, Eddie started to squirm under the attention. “I am so fucking attracted to you,” she said, voice low and hoarse, as her eyes wandered over Eddie’s body. Her dark eyes and the blush high on her cheeks told Eddie she was telling the truth, and Eddie relaxed. The way Richie was looking at her made her feel attractive.

They settled back down, with Eddie on her back on the ground and Richie half on top of her, her thigh resting between Eddie’s. Eddie couldn’t believe how good it felt to have Richie pressed up against her like this, skin to skin. They kissed more, deep and slow like they were trying to consume each other. Richie took Eddie’s bottom lip between her teeth and sucked on it lightly, and Eddie’s hips, seemingly of their own accord, thrust up against Richie’s thigh. Richie responded by grinding her thigh down and biting harder, and Eddie let out a helpless whimper. Richie’s hand found its way to Eddie’s bare thigh, slipping under her skirt. She pulled back as she did it, watching Eddie’s face. Eddie wondered if she was watching her so she’d know if Eddie wanted her to stop, or if she just wanted to see the look on her face as her hand slowly slid higher and higher. She suspected it was some heady mixture of the two.

When Richie’s fingers brushed the front of Eddie’s underwear, she shuddered. Eddie wordlessly reached down and undid the zipper on her skirt and pulled it off, revealing a pair of plain white cotton underwear. She wished she’d worn something nicer, and she started to pull them off too, but Richie stopped her.

“Don’t take these off yet,” said Richie lowly, hand circling Eddie’s wrist. “Please,” she amended, “I just… I like them.”

Richie was always asking her if she wanted things, asking for permission to do things, but something about her telling Eddie what to do, big hand wrapped around her wrist, had Eddie so turned on that she was dizzy with it. “Yeah, okay,” she said.

Richie sat up on her knees in between Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie spread her legs instinctually to accommodate her. Richie’s eyes were dark and predatory as she moved the crotch of Eddie’s underwear to the side and dipped her middle finger in, running it along Eddie’s slit.

“Fuck,” Richie cursed. “You’re so wet, Eddie.”

Richie leaned forward, so she was hovering over Eddie again, and kissed her on the mouth. “I want to eat you out,” she said.

“Okay,” Eddie squeaked.

“Has no one ever done that for you before?” asked Richie. Eddie shook her head. “Have you been with another girl before?” she asked, and when Eddie shook her head again she cursed softly. Eddie would have thought that Richie was upset if not for the dark blush that spread over her face.

“Does that turn you on?” asked Eddie teasingly, and Richie laughed a small, nervous laugh.

“Um, yeah, kind of,” she said, looking a little embarrassed. She kissed Eddie one more time on the mouth, and then she sat back up. Eddie expected her to finally take off her underwear, but she didn’t. She kissed the inside of Eddie’s knee, and then moved up, kissing and biting the soft olive skin of Eddie’s inner thigh. She licked the ticklish arch of skin right where Eddie’s underwear met her thigh and Eddie jolted. And then, Richie licked right over the front of Eddie’s soaked-through underwear.

“Jesus fuck, Richie,” Eddie gasped. She did it again, and Eddie swore. “Rich, please,” she begged, and Richie finally slid her underwear off.

It didn’t take long for Eddie to realize that Richie was _really_ good with her mouth. Not that Eddie had much to compare it to, but it felt like almost no time before she had Eddie panting and moaning with every stroke of her tongue. She took Eddie’s hand and slipped it into her own hair, and when Eddie pulled a little she could feel the vibration of Richie moaning against her. Eddie hooked her foot around Richie and rested her heel on Richie’s back. At times, Richie let Eddie lead, following where Eddie pushed her and letting her thrust her hips, but mostly she held Eddie’s hips down and took control, slipping two fingers into Eddie’s pussy and stroking up in a way that made her cry out.

Eddie was close. “Please, please don’t stop, Rich,” she begged, and for once Richie didn’t tease. She let Eddie thrust her hips and pull her hair. Eddie’s thighs shook, and her breathing got shallow, and before she knew it she was tipping over the edge. Richie licked her through it, but eventually Eddie had to shove her head away. “Stop, stop, stop,” she said as she was coming down. When Richie sat up, her mouth and chin were soaking wet.

“Oh my God,” groaned Eddie, throwing her arm over her eyes. She heard Richie chuckle and felt her crawl over and flop down on the blanket beside her. She was breathing almost as hard as Eddie was. She reached somewhere above their heads and grabbed her sweater, wiping her face on it. “Ew,” said Eddie, making a face. Richie gave her a goofy grin.

They lied there for a couple of minutes, catching their breath. “Would it gross you out if I kissed you right now?” Richie said.

Eddie shook her head no, and Richie rolled over and gave Eddie a chaste kiss on the lips.

“You didn’t get off,” said Eddie uncertainly. “Is there… I mean, can I do something for you?”

“No,” said Richie. “That was good.”

Eddie felt her heart sink. She turned onto her back, wondering if she’d done something wrong. “Is it because I’m not experienced?” she asked, and, to her horror, she felt her eyes welling up with tears.

“Eds, no,” said Richie. She put her hand on Eddie’s jaw, gently urging her to turn her head. “It’s nothing like that, I swear.” Richie’s eyes widened. “Are you crying?” she asked.

“No,” she said angrily, wiping a tear off her cheek.

Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie and pulled her over so her head was resting on Richie’s chest. “I really just don’t like being touched like that,” explained Richie. It sounded like it was hard for her to admit.

“Why?” asked Eddie.

She felt Richie shrug. “I don’t know. I just never have.” Richie started rubbing slow circles on Eddie’s back. “I swear it has nothing to do with you. I’m sorry, maybe I should have told you that beforehand. I know it bothers some people.”

Eddie shook her head. “It doesn’t bother me,” she said, and she found she meant it. “I just… what do you get out of sex, then?”

Richie thought for a moment. “It’s hard to describe,” she finally said. “But it’s just as satisfying for me as it is for you. Or else I probably wouldn’t do it.” There was a long pause. “If that’s, like, a deal breaker for you, then that’s okay, but if you could just tell me now? Because I’ve had a major crush on you for the last three months, and if this isn’t going to work out I’d rather know sooner rather than later.” She laughed like it was a joke, but Eddie knew it probably wasn’t. She tilted her head so she could see Richie’s face, and it was drawn and nervous.

“It’s okay with me,” said Eddie. “It’s actually kind of…” she searched for the word, “uh, hot?”

Richie raised her eyebrows and a smile slowly lit up her face. “Eddie, are you telling me you want to be my pillow princess?” she asked, laughing genuinely this time.

Eddie scowled. “You’re an idiot,” she said, for lack of a better response.

* * *

They locked up and walked back across campus, giddy and loose as drunks walking home after last call, and when they got back to Eddie’s apartment they shushed each other like teenagers getting home from a party trying not to wake their parents. Richie slept sprawled out on Eddie’s double bed, and Eddie curled up into her side.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments??? literally my lifeblood so tysm <3


End file.
